


witching hour

by koteosa



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Other, Sharing a Bed, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "Asrian and sharing a bed"
Relationships: Asra/Julian Devorak
Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634764
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	witching hour

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentines day

In the dead of night, there were really only two reasons Julian would ever expect to hear a knock at his bedroom window. Either it was the rapid and tinking taps of Malak demanding to be let inside, or it was a very weak burglar attempting to break in and rob him blind. Or kill him in his sleep, perhaps, it wasn't like he had very many valuables to begin with.

The sound clearly wasn't the tapping of a bird's beak, and it wasn't very persistent or threatening, either. Rather, it was hesitant, a single knock followed several seconds later by three more, almost as quiet as the first. He holds a candle up to the window, but can't find anything on the other side of it, and frowns. A prank, maybe?

His curiosity gets the better of him. Pulling his eyepatch back on, he sets the candle down on a table nearby, sliding the window up to take a peek outside. No one immediately jumps out to drive a dagger into his throat, so that was good. He almost doesn't see anything worth noting at all; likely never would, if not for the way fluffy white hair and a bright orange vest stand out so plainly against the darkness of night. 

A murderer would have made more sense than this. Hell, the _Count_ would have made more sense, showing up at his bedroom window at the witching hour, long after most people had gone to bed. There was no reason for Asra to be here.

Yet there he was, kneeling outside like he had already changed his mind about visiting, and was hoping Julian just wouldn't see him.

Asra turns his head, and their eyes meet. Julian doesn't like what he sees there, the ring of red in his tired lavender eyes, clothes haphazardly arranged about his body like he'd thrown them on in a hurry, hair tousled. The sight has Julian's mind racing to figure out what happened; had he been attacked? Did someone die? Was someone _about_ to die? Why wasn't he at the palace, with his parents? Wouldn't they be much higher on his list of people to run to?

The magician raises fluidly to his feet, lips parting to say something, but without having the right words. It doesn't matter; Julian shoves the window up the rest of the way and frantically coaxes him inside. The urgency brings a look of surprise to Asra's eyes, but he follows without question, climbing easily in through the window. Julian closes it behind him, not wanting to let the chill get in anymore than it already had.

Asra stands awkwardly in the center of the room, looking around at his surroundings. His hands are fidgeting, fingers curling and uncurling without his bag to hold onto. With his back turned, all Julian can see are the colorful swirls and patterns of his vest, hanging slightly off one shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" Julian asks, carrying the candleholder with him over to the hearth nearby, paying more attention to Asra than to what he's doing with his hands. Somehow he manages to set the candle down on the mantle without setting the house on fire.

Rather than answer, Asra kneels down by the hearth, lighting a fire with his magic. It burns weakly, a bright blue that begins to shift colors as he teases it with a fresh log of wood. It begins to spread more after that.

Once that's done, he raises to his feet, leaning back against the side of the fireplace. He crosses his arms over his waist, plainly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry I showed up so late," he says, eyes directed at the floorboards. "And without warning," he adds, wincing slightly as he turns to stare at a nearby shelf.

"I don't mind," Julian replies honestly, still struggling to figure out _why_ , exactly, the magician was here in the first place. "I'd… offer you some tea, but coffee's all I've got, I'm afraid."

Asra shakes his head. "That's not why I'm here," he says quietly.

"Well, I should hope not. This isn't a cafe, it's a clinic," Julian jokes, hoping to see even the hint of a smile on Asra's face, so tired and _blank_. He isn't successful. Rather, it's as though Asra hadn't heard a single word, turning to him with an odd look he wasn't used to seeing on the magician's face. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd _ever_ seen this, the melancholy in his eyes, brows creased and lips parted. It felt wrong, like he shouldn't be allowed to see this. They weren't anything to each other, were _never_ truly anything to each other.

"I can't sleep anymore," Asra says, still speaking in low tones, like he was sick. A silver eye narrows down at him.

"I don't think I heard you correctly."

Asra scoffs humourlessly. "I know. I know," he says, and reaches up to cover half his face, eyes falling closed with an exhausted sigh. Nodding slowly, Julian lifts the candle back up, glancing back towards his desk.

"I think I understand," he says, gesturing towards the desk, where a wooden chair and matching stool were arranged around piles of books and parchment. They head over to it in silence, with Asra keeping his head down all the while.

After perching on the stool, Asra slumps against the nearest surface; the wall, in this case. It was as though he hadn't the energy left to hold up his own body anymore. Surely it wasn't that he felt safe and comfortable enough to do something like that around Julian. Certainly not.

"So," Julian continues, filling the silence Asra left behind, "You want me to prescribe you something."

A sarcastic smirk appears on Asra's face as a bitter laugh parts his lips. "Spells work a lot better than any medicine you could give me, Ilya," he says, in a rather smug way that has Julian wanting to argue that notion for the next four hours, but he holds back, instead focusing on the actual response.

Frowning, he says, "There's no other treatment I can offer you, I'm afraid, and I have the chronic insomnia to prove it."

"I know," Asra sleepily mumbles, eyes languidly surveying a book laid out on Julian's desk. "I know you do."

Utterly lost, Julian asks, "Then, why come to a doctor's office? Is there some other problem? Or do you need someone to talk to that isn't your parents? I would have thought your apprentice would come before me."

"I don't want to talk about them," Asra says, louder and clearer than anything else he'd said that night, with an odd crease of his brows that has Julian even _more_ confused. Since when was he not utterly delighted by the mere _concept_ of his apprentice? Were they fighting? Was _that_ why he was here?

He couldn't ask, not after Asra had very explicitly _just_ stated that he didn't want to talk about it. So, not talk about it they did.

"Right," Julian says lamely. Not sure what else to say, lest he repeat himself yet again, he waits patiently for Asra to say something else, to explain himself. He looked on the verge of falling asleep on the spot, surely he couldn't go on much longer.

It takes awhile for Asra to get the words out. It felt much longer for Julian, who wasn't anywhere near as tired, despite the rather advanced hour. "I haven't slept alone in years," Asra says. "Not since…"

Sorrow fills his eyes, and he turns his head closer toward the wall, hiding half his face in the wallpaper.

"Before them, I shared a bed with my best friend. And before him it was my parents. But I'm far too old to climb into bed with them, and… I barely recognize them anymore. I don't feel comfortable around them like I used to."

Which left…

" _Asra_ ," Julian says, with just enough disapproval in his voice for Asra to begin to curl in on himself in shame. He turns, looking for the window he came in from.

"This was a mistake," Asra says, raising up off the stool. "I'm going back—"

A black, gloved hand reaches out, latching frantically onto Asra's wrist. They _both_ turn to it in shock, the impulsive action outside Julian's control, yet it works to get him to ease back into his seat as he was before. Or an approximation of it, at least; he was far too tense now to do anything but sit there, stiff as a board.

Julian sighs. This was a bad idea.

"You should know," he says, "I don't sleep well at night. If you want to sleep _now_ , which you look like you do, you're going to have to use one of those spells on me. The tablets I keep in the clinic don't work very well on me anymore."

It takes a moment for his words to register, but when they do, Asra looks up at him in surprise. After the surprise fades, it's almost like he doesn't believe him, or doesn't like the idea, despite it clearly being what he was after. His lips part like he has something to say, yet nothing ever comes out, and he just nods instead, staring down at the floor as usual.

This was going to be a _really_ long night.

Beginning to tug some of his extra layers off, Julian raises to his feet, gesturing towards the bed in the corner of the room. It was large enough for two to fit comfortably inside, with a rich red quilt and matching pillows, plus sheer, black curtains pinned to the canopy overhead. Undressing in total silence, Asra leaves his extra clothing and boots by the window, while Julian changes properly, as he does—well, certainly not every night, considering most nights he just collapsed somewhere without planning and woke up in wrinkled clothing.

Dressed in black leggings and a pale blouse for sleeping in, he finds Asra hovering near the bed, waiting for him to make the first move. Those gold buttons on his pants did not look comfortable to lay on, nor did the beige shirt, but he clearly wasn't comfortable taking them off, and Julian didn't own a single thing that would fit on someone so much smaller than him. He decides not to comment on it.

"I presume you'll want to sleep on the outside," Julian says. Avoiding eye contact, Asra nods, shuffling a bit closer to the bed after Julian has climbed inside, pulling back the covers for him.

Asra lays facing him, while Julian tucks the covers up over the magician's shoulders. Perhaps a little too dotingly, considering they weren't even together, anymore—were _never_ together, he reminds himself. A little embarrassed by his behavior, he goes to turn toward the wall, only to be stopped by a hand on his bicep, tugging lightly. Their eyes meet, and he catches something desperate in the magician's gaze. The sight tugs at his heart strings a little too firmly.

But it's quickly gone, as Asra leans in toward Julian's neck, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the borderline deceased chill of Julian's. His breath catches, unused to this kind of physical proximity from anyone, much less an old fling. Tawny hands remain clutching onto the front of his shirt, and he reciprocates, wrapping the magician up in his arms. It felt like the proper move to make, and judging by the way Asra moves closer, he's not mistaken.

And he _definitely_ wasn't going to be able to fall asleep like this. His mind was too active, body too tense, heart too loud. At this rate, he'd spend all night and well into the morning pondering over what this meant, how and if this would change things between them. Did Asra want things to change between them? Did _Julian_ want that? He'd meant to resolve himself to seeing them better as friends, and this was making all his efforts crash down around him. Having Asra so close was dangerous for his heart, pounding away in his chest as it was currently.

Oh god, _did he notice?_ He must know, of course he knew, they were laying so close together, he had to notice.

Right as he's starting to panic about that, he hears something that drags him forcefully out of his thoughts. A sharp breath, followed by the sound of sniffling. It's then that he registers the shaking in Asra's shoulders, and his rising panic finds a new source.

"Asra?" Pulling back slightly, he tries to get a better look at the magician's face, but he curls in on himself, moving his hands to cover his face. Oh, no, no no… "What happened? Did something… Did I do something wrong? Why are you crying?"

This was new, and seemingly impossible, before tonight. Never once had he seen Asra crumble. He was quicker to anger than fear, or sadness, or generally anything vulnerable. Something had to have gone _catastrophically_ wrong, Julian was sure of it.

But Asra doesn't respond, and Julian doesn't know how to react. He didn't own the guidebook on Asra Alnazar, that was up to his apprentice, or his parents, or his friend, people he actually _liked_. They were barely even friends. After the investigation ended, he hadn't seen fit to make many appearances outside the palace. They'd been out for drinks maybe twice, that was it. Julian didn't even know what Asra's parents' names were!

"Do you want me to take you back to the palace? I'll walk you home, up to your room, even, or… or maybe you don't want me around, I'll just show you to the door, then, you don't have to use the window. Much more civilized, and we don't have to talk about this ever again. I'll wipe tonight from my memory completely—"

The feeling of Asra pressing closer, arms snaking around his back to cling tight enough for stubby nails to be felt digging into flesh shuts him up. Not knowing what else to do, Julian wraps him up in his arms, a hand against the back of his head. His hair was so soft— _not the time_.

"I don't want to go back," Asra says, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who was _definitely_ crying, Julian could feel the moisture against his chest. "It's not the same room, but it reminds me of…"

"…The plague," Julian finishes. Asra nods, his fingers curling tighter. At the time, he never would have thought Asra was struggling with much of anything terribly tragic. He seemed fine, much better than someone who had lost his lover, or anyone, really, to an epidemic. It was in reflection, after he _knew_ , that he realized it had all been fake. Sometimes he wondered if he actually knew who Asra really was, at all.

But it was no wonder he was here, and not at the palace. He wasn't so sure he'd feel comfortable there either, not this soon after moving in. "I'm not sure if I can help you," he says, curling his fingers into Asra's hair. There's a prolonged moment of silence, apart from the sound of Asra's strained breaths struggling to find calm, before he speaks again.

"You're right," Asra says. "You can't." Julian wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear, but… that stung. He _wanted_ to help, he wanted more than anything right now to be able to help. If he could wave his hand and say some magic words and cure Asra's heartbreak just like that, he would. But he can't. And he's a doctor, not a therapist. Hardly even a friend, for that matter.

Asra was right. He couldn't do anything.

"Well," Julian starts, struggling to keep the hurt out of his tone, "My door is always open for you, whenever you want me. Or the window, I suppose."

Maybe that was too suggestive, but Asra had to know what he meant. And he meant… well, anything. Even _that_. Hell, Asra could show up to kill him and he probably wouldn't be able to find it in him to be mad. If it helped him heal, then so be it. Vesuvia could find a newer, better doctor to take his place.

Asra continues to cry quietly, and Julian strokes his hair, longing to be of any use to him at all. He wishes he could see the magician's face, gently wipe away his tears. That he could do better than this, maybe wrap him up in a warm blanket and bring him tea, to tell him everything was going to be alright. The palace would stop being so scary and someone would be there to warm his bed eventually, he was still young and probably the most beautiful person Julian had ever laid eyes on.

But Julian was terrified of screwing things up. Everything between them had been precarious from the start, and Julian had done enough fucking it all up before he'd even known how delicate what they had was. He couldn't screw it up now, not like this. Asra needed him, even if only because no one else was available.

That was fine. He would do whatever he could, whatever Asra wanted. Whatever he asked for, and more.

Eventually Asra's breathing begins to even out. The grip on Julian's back grows slack, yet Julian's arms only wind tighter. The slumbering magician doesn't seem to notice; he was always such a heavy sleeper. To think he was having trouble falling asleep seemed unfathomable.

Stroking gently through Asra's curls, Julian focuses on the sound of his gentle breaths. The rise and fall of his chest against Julian's own, the warmth of his body, the woodsy smell of his hair… Tugging his lip between his teeth, Julian suppresses a sigh.

He was a fool to think his feelings for the magician would ever qualify as "just friends".

**Author's Note:**

> http://koteosa.carrd.co/


End file.
